Revealing the Cards
by DCMarvelGirl
Summary: Noelle had a somewhat normal life. Her mother died when she was 14 and she went to live in Gotham City with a friend. He died years later, and she lived normally until she somehow grew wings. Afterwards, she left that life and began hiring herself as a mercenary and opposing all who stood for good, like Batman, not believing in happiness. Only, she didn't expect to fall in love.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

The day my mother died, I was sitting with her in the hospital. She was lying there, hooked up to all these machines with flashing lights, and we were just silent. I couldn't think of anything to say to her, even in her last moments of life. All I could think about was being alone. A few minutes before she passed, she grabbed my hand and said my name. "You're strong," she said. "And you will make it in life, and you will be successful. Just remember that a small part of me will always be with you, no matter what. I may be dead, but it doesn't mean I won't be living on in you." It seemed like the part in the sappy old movies that I'd always laugh at, but now that it was actually happening, I wished it had just been an act, that after the cameras stopped rolling she'd get out of bed and give me a hug. But she didn't. A few nurses and a doctor came in the room as soon as her heart monitor started beeping, and they recorded her time of death. Before they left, the doctor patted me on the shoulder and told me he was sorry, as if it would make me feel better.

It was so hard, because in the past months we had been fighting, both of us, and she had been doing good until a few weeks before her death. They said that the tumor had come back, and that it was growing even faster. They gave her an estimate of how long she had left, and she stayed in the hospital until the end. I know it would have been hard, being in a plain room with no comfort except for your fourteen year old child who was hardly any company. I wish I had treated her better when I was younger, I wish that I would have listened when she told me to do my chore and to do my homework. Now all I have left of my mother are memories and a necklace she bought me when I was younger.

My father's picture was on one side of the locket, and after she died, I put hers in too. I always wear it, because I'm afraid I'll forget her. Even though it sounds silly, it's true. I don't want her to fade from my mind. I want to remember the woman that raised me.

I didn't know where I'd, because the rest of my family had stopped keeping connection with my parents when they were married, practically disowned them, which I find stupid. You can't pretend like they don't share the same blood flowing through your veins. I was surprised when an old family friend had offered to take me in. He lived in Gotham City, which is a rather strange name, but I was desperate.

I stayed with him for five years until he too, died. It seems like everyone I love ends up dying. At that time I was old enough to live on my own, and I did, for a while. I had a job, kept up with the bills for my small apartment, and planned on going to college once I saved up enough money. But that was before I grew a pair of wings. I don't know why. I wish I did. I wish I knew why my life is so fucked up, why I have to deal with all of it. I used to think about suicide, but I realized that it wouldn't accomplish anything.

I know my mother would be disappointed in me if she saw me right now. Hiring myself out for thug bosses and senile idiots who want to 'control Gotham.' There's this one that I've been working for lately, and he's the worst one I've worked for yet. He even calls himself the Joker. How crazy is that?

And then there's the self appointed hero of Gotham, Batman. I don't know where he came from, but I do know that he and the Joker have a rivalry, and I'm willing to help the Joker out. For a price of course. Always for a price.

Taken from the diary of Noelle Eliza Walters.


	2. Savior in the Rain

**Sorry, it's not my best work and I feel like I rushed in while trying to get a chapter in for this story. :/**

Chapter One:

"Look, I didn't say nothin', honest!" The man stammers as he scrambles away from me in fear.

"If you didn't say anything, then why is Batman going through my apartment as we speak?" I snarl, kicking him in the side. "You are clearly lying to me."

"I'm not, I swear! Please, I have kids!" He fumbles for his wallet and opens it, throwing a picture at me. I don't bother to look at it.

"What, are you trying to fly me on a guilt trip? It won't work, buddy." I kick him again, and this time he yelps loudly. "Consider our contract terminated." His eyes widen, and he shakes his head.

"No, you can't be doing this to me! Please!" He keeps promising and swearing he didn't, but I unsheathe the sword at my hip.

"Your word is as good as mine." I sweep it in a downwards arc, aiming to slice his throat, but I purposely miss, swiping the necklace off his neck instead. "Have a word of advice, bud. Don't steal from me," I say quietly before walking deeper into the alleyway. I lift the necklace up, and the moonlight reflects off the silver surface of the heart shaped locket. He had stolen it from me when I was sleeping, and for that I should have killed him, but I've been feeling merciful lately, although if the Joker knew he'd birth a cow. I stare at the broken chain and curse softly. I'll have to find a new chain later, so I gently place it in my pocket and take to the air silently.

Flying always calms me, the openness of the sky soothing, and gravity takes all my worries to the ground. I close my eyes, outstretching my wings. Normally, I'm in a hurry to get to where I'm going, but I'm waiting for Batman to clear up so I can go back to my apartment. It shouldn't be much longer, and I'd rather avoid conflict with him, even though I oppose what he does. I've always wondered if he will ever realize that justice is never just or fair, and there's always a losing side. Happiness doesn't exist either; it's just an illusion playing a trick on our eyes, blinding us to what we really need to see.

I let myself be pushed and pulled by the wind as it whistles through my feathers. Sighing, I know it's time, so I begin to propel myself through the air as easily as a knife cutting through butter, my large wing strokes few in number but enough to send me along at a quick pace. In just a few moments I land gently on the roof of an abandoned apartment building that had been marked to be knocked down, but it's not like they ever did. I'll have to move my place, which is a shame because I really like it here, being close to the ocean where I can soar above it peacefully. I had been house hunting earlier, and I did see a few candidates that I'll have to visit again.

As I enter my apartment, it's surprisingly clean. Nothing out of place, and if I didn't know better, I'd say that he wasn't here. But I do know better, and I know that his precision doesn't make his visit disappear. Like one of the chairs at the table has been pushed, almost like he brushed against it without thinking. I frown immediately.

Something is wrong; I can feel it in my wings. "Ah, the little bird decides to drop in. You know, you're lucky Bats didn't have time to open that vault of yours," a voice purrs, and I feel bile rise in my throat.

"Why are you here?" I demand, whirling to face my current boss.

"I was just paying a friendly visit," he says, trying to sound injured.

"A friendly visit? You're too kind," I say, my jaw clenched. "Now I think it's time for you to go."

"Did your parents ever teach you to be considerate?" He growls, his mood changing instantly.

"Didn't your parents tell you not to barge in other people's houses without asking?" I counter, even though I know he doesn't like to be back talked.

Instead, he only laughs. "You're growing on me, Angel," he says, taking out a deck of cards.

"I wish I could say the same for you," I mutter, crossing my arms.

"Tell me, why did you pick the name Angel? I always thought just The Mercenary would have been better, and less…Typical." His already grinning face stretches even more.

I sit myself in a chair, carefully making room for my wings. "Angels don't always represent all the warm and fuzzy feelings you know."

"Yes, I do know, thank you. They can stand for chaos too. Ah, chaos. Have you ever heard such a lovely word? I know you've been thinking about it, and so I have I. The world would be much more…interesting if everyone just did what they wanted. No imaginary restrictions on the morals of their minds." He puts the cards back in his pocket and sighs, while I merely grunt, not knowing what else to say. "Don't tell me Batman is getting to you," he accuses, his eyes darkening.

"That's a stupid question, Joker. I thought you knew better," I reply smoothly, examining my nails.

"Ah, yes, of course it was. I was merely testing you, deary." He rises, straightening the green bowtie at his neck. "I have a job for you."

"And what is this job?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. Usually he sends one of his thugs to tell me, and then I do it. Simple as that.

"It's going to be difficult, but I know you can do it. It's just up your alleyway." He pauses, a smirk growing on his face. "Tell me, are you a good actress? Illusionist maybe?"

"I worked for you as a spy once. You should know the answers. Why do you keep asking stupid questions?"

"SHUT UP!" He shouts suddenly, clearly agitated. He clears his throat. "Look, you made me lose my temper." He licks his lips, and I wonder how he can wear that wretched makeup. "I need you to spy on Bruce Wayne. Not from a distance, mind you. I want you to be up close and with him, so to do that, well, this is where your girly charms kick in. Are you following?" I nod slowly, frowning. How does he think I can do this?

He makes a hand gesture, and one of his loyal thugs appears from the corner.

"Huh?" Confusion is evident on my face, and he smiles grimly.

"Hold her down for me, Joe," he says, pulling out a knife. Before I can move, the hunk of muscle picks me up from my chair and knocks everything off the table, pinning me down with my back facing up. I kick and squirm, but he twists my arm and I hiss in anger.

"You know, I always disliked birds. Sorry Angel, but this is going to hurt," Joker remarks, and I can just picture him lovingly regarding his knife. I suddenly realize what he's going to do. I begin to panic, and I let out a scream before Joe claps a hand over my mouth. I try to bite his hand, but he twists my arm again. I kick and keep trying, but I feel a blow land to my head, dazing me. I hear a cackle before an immense pain explodes in my back, and tears begin streaming down my face. I can feel every movement of that knife, every damn movement. The pain is worse than anything I've felt before, soaking deep into my skin. My vision fails me, and the world goes dark.

I wake up and temporarily wonder where I am. I feel as if my very soul aches and burns with a searing pain, and every slight movement sends shocks through my body. I close my eyes, my breathing labored. It feels like a brick is lying on my chest.

I slowly manage to roll off the table with a groan, and when I land on the floor. It's like all the energy has been sapped out of my body, like it was fed on by a leech. I try to lift an arm, but my body refuses to cooperate, still traumatized from what the bastard did to me. My wings! I'll get him for it, and I'll enjoy gouging his eyes out with a spoon, but from my unresponsive muscles, I'll probably never get out of this apartment.

My shirt sticks to my back, and for a moment, I feel slightly glad that I won't have to cut squares in the backs of my clothing ever again, even though it lasts only a second. I wince, wondering how much blood has covered me, and if I'm still bleeding. As if to answer, I feel something wet at the base of the pain, the eye of the storm, you could say. I know I won't have time to patch myself up and clear out the apartment, because as I look out the window, the sun is setting, again. I must have been passed out for a whole day, but can you blame me?

Batman will probably be back, and I'll be an easy target for him. I'd rather die than live the rest of my life in some women's prison or asylum. Slowly, I begin to drag myself with my fingers, a painstaking crawl. At the rate I'm going, a caterpillar could beat me to the bathroom. Once I make it, it's already dark outside, and I stare up at the sink. It resembles a mountain, and I can already feel my strength draining away, so I'll have to act quickly. Reaching up, I grab onto the edge, managing to pull the rest of myself up and stand. Swaying slightly, I grab one of the numerous bottles of water and chug it. I take another and splash my face with it, feeling the droplets stream into my shirt. Now for the nasty part.

With shaking hands, I begin to lift my shirt off, but my arms strain and protest, as if they had been the ones cut from me. In the end, I use a pocketknife to remove it, and I slowly turn around so my wounds will be revealed to the mirror. Turning my head back, my stomach instantly churns and clenches, and I hold back vomit. Two jagged holes sit where my wings once were, blood and pus seeping out in rivers. It already looks infected, and I can see bits of flesh. I come to the harsh realization that I don't have anything to fix this.

Somehow managing to pull on another shirt and I jacket, I stumble outside, rain beginning to fall from the darkened sky. Thunder rumbles, and I flinch involuntarily. I have to go somewhere, but I don't know anyone. Tears blending in with the rainfall, I splash through the deserted streets and alleyways, my steps unsteady and my vision blurred. Why? How? How could he do this to me? What, did he think they would heal overnight, that they were nothing? The images of my back flash in my head, and I eventually heave behind a trashcan, falling to my knees.

"Hey, look what we have here boys," a voice sneers, and I would groan if I weren't busy puking. I quickly remove my feathered mask before they can see it, knowing that even though I work for the Joker doesn't give me protection from other thugs. Normally, I never worried about them. I never knew what I had until I lost it. Throwing it behind the trashcan, I pick up a beer bottle and turn toward them, my hair plastered to my face.

"Aw, did she drink too much?" Another taunts, kicking the bottle out of my hand.

"She looks a little young to be drinking," one says, looking around before kneeling down. He rests a hand on my knee, but I summon the strength to kick him in the chest.

"Get…away…from me," I wheeze quietly, panting and grimacing as my back scrapes against the building.

"She's a tough one!" The first speaker laughs, shaking his head. "Come on, babe, don't you want to come with us somewhere warm and out of the rain?"

"The only place I'll be going is your funeral," I growl, able to speak a complete sentence without any pauses. They all laugh this time, until one of them gets dragged into the alleyway screaming. The streetlamp nearby goes out, leaving the area dark except for the occasional flash of lightning against the sky. I hear a grunts and the sound of punches being thrown and bodies hitting the pavement. Another ray of lightning reaches my eyes, giving me enough to see a dark figure, the rain bouncing off his shoulders and his pointy eared mask. Just my luck.

"Give me your hand," he says, holding out his own, and I'm too dazed to take it. Eventually, he pulls me up and hefts me over his shoulder, leaving me gasping in pain.

I can't see anything, but I can feel him sitting me in something out of the rain, something I pass off as a vehicle. A small prick of pain that lasts only a second goes up my arm, and I can feel the effects of some drug coursing through my veins as my muscles begin to relax.

The last thing I remember saying is, "Batman?"


	3. The Man Behind the Mask

Chapter Two

When I suddenly bolt into consciousness, I'm aware of a figure in the corner of the room. The bed below me is comfortable, but my back screams in pain every time I move, so I don't get to enjoy it. I'm disorientated; my mouth dry, while everything teeters nauseously.

"You have some severe injuries, and you're lucky they didn't get more infected than they already were in the rain," the figure says lowly, shifting his position.

"Water," I croak, hardly audible, even to myself. The man gestures towards my right with one hand, shrouded in darkness. I look to where he points, a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. If only my muscles will obey me, but they're unresponsive. A cough racks my chest, leaving me gasping for air afterwards.

"You caught a nasty cold though." He crosses the floor over to me, taking the glass and lifting my head. "Drink it." Obediently, I sip the water that laps at my lips, not stopping until it's empty. I train my eyes on his face, except it too, is invisible in the shadowed room. "What is your name?"

Without thinking, I reply in a hoarse voice, "Noelle." _Damn my mouth_, I curse inwardly.

"You should rest," he says finally, slipping away towards the door.

"Wait!" My hand reaches out jerkily. It's funny how much of an effect losing my wings could have on me, mentally and physically. He makes a grunting sound, pausing but not turning around. "Who are you?"

"Does it really matter?" I can hardly hear him speak. "Besides, I'm sure you already know the answer to that." He then disappears.

"So I'm just supposed to call you Batman?" I call, though I'm sure he's out of range. "Great. I'm stuck here with two damn holes in my back and I have no idea where I am or who tended to my wounds." Another thought enters my mind. In order to attend to my back, I'd have had to be partially naked. I curse, despite not really caring about my actual nudeness; it's about all the scars I have. I've always been self conscious of them, merely because they contain parts of my past I don't want to relive. The months of doing stupid jobs for thug gangs and going home bleeding. I remember having to stitch a few wounds once, the scars being jagged only due to the stitches. Plus, if he saw those, he might know more about who I am. The last thing I need is someone unraveling my life like a ball of yarn.

He told me to rest, but at the moment, I need to know where I am. Muscles screaming in protest, I slowly ease myself out of the bed, my back searing with an intense pain. I grimace, my legs wobbling as I take tiny steps across the carpet. I support myself by placing one arm against the wall, not wanting to take a spill to the floor and bring Batman or whoever the hell that man is. Batman might have dropped me off at some random place for all I know.

I make it to the window, finding it slightly open. Using a hand, I try to slide it some more, only so I can get some fresh air. The view outside, however, stops me. I'm several stories above the ground, while I'm staring at a garden with trimmed hedges and a fountain in the middle. "Holy shi-" I start, but a voice interrupts.

"I told you to get some sleep." I whirl around so suddenly that I lose balance, toppling to the floor. I cry out quietly, my back a raging wild fire. The man is already at my side, and he begins helping me up, except getting up is something my body doesn't want to do. He lays a hand on one of my wounds unknowingly, or maybe he does it on purpose, just to get some sick pleasure out of seeing me in pain.

"Bastard!" I exclaim, gasping and trying to pull away from him. His grip is firm, though I'm not up to resisting at the moment.

"Don't tell me your parents allowed you to speak like that?" There's a hint of amusement in his voice, and I scowl weakly.

"Parents? Yeah, right." I then remember my necklace. "Where is it?" I say, panicking as I search my pockets. I can't have lost my only connection to my mother, damn it!

"You mean the necklace? I put it on the dresser. Why is it so important?" By this time, he's lifting me up and placing me on the bed, as if I weigh nothing at all.

"I uh, I paid a lot for it," I lie, putting my head back on the pillows.

"Really? I'm surprised to hear you say that, Noelle Eliza Walters. Why didn't you just tell me your mother gave it to you?" I sit up suddenly, my back sincerely hating me at the moment, but I don't care.

"You just have to be the omniscient one, don't you? It kills you not to know anything. I wonder when you last minded your own business! It's my life, not some book for you to open up and read away!" He says nothing, so I continue. "You can't mind your own business, can you?

"I don't know what you were doing with the Joker, but I can guarantee that I'm going to find out," Batman replies quietly, a threat hanging ominously over my head. "I doubt you'll be glad when I do."

"Good luck, because you're going to need it," I snarl through gritted teeth. I notice him slipping something out of his pocket, something with a sharp point. A sedative. Of course. He wants to shut me up so he can go save Gotham. When he tries to inject it, I slap his hand away. "Piss off," I growl angrily, my eyes narrowed.

"I was merely going to give you some morphine, but obviously you don't want it." He shrugs, placing it back in his pocket and strolling out of the room. I can practically feel the smirk on his face.

"Bastard!" I yell again, seething and curling my hands into fists. If it weren't for my wounds, I'd be tackling him right now. I could smother him to death with a pillow. After I took care of him, I'd visit the Joker and make sure he gets something of _his _cut off, just to see how he likes it. At this thought, I can't help but smile. I can feel a knife in my hands already.

Whatever medicine I had earlier is beginning to wear off, the pain increasing as if somebody is turning a knob. I'm starting to regret my decision to tell Batman to piss off, although it doesn't change that he's still a jerk. Still, there's just something interesting about him that I can't shake. No, it's not that he emits a mysterious aura that is somehow a pull in, but the fact that he'd risk so much for a worthless city does strike me as odd. If I can only manage to find out who he is, maybe it won't be much of a mystery.

I must have passed out earlier, because sunlight streams through the window, the beams stretching across the bed. I see a figure in the corner again, and from the suit it's Batman. He's asleep, his head leaning against the wall while his hands still grip the sides of the chair. Carefully, I strip the cover off, placing one leg on the floor. I wait for the pain, and sure enough, it's there. Managing to stand, I walk slowly, every step sending a volt up my back. I'm surprised I can still move at this point. Mere will power is all that's keeping me going. When I reach him, I take the blanket and drape it over him. I don't know why, I just feel like I should. He seems more…vulnerable when he's asleep.

He shifts suddenly, murmuring something. I can't help but wonder how silly he must seem in that suit now. It sticks out easily, the light allowing me to more closely study him. He's not extremely muscular, but he has a sense of strength that's enough to deter anybody. I suspect he's taller than me, definitely a little over six feet. I'm 5'10, so not many people I've met have been taller than that, although it's not like I've met many people other than thugs and street thieves.

"What are you doing?" I didn't notice that he woke up, so now he's staring at me with intense blue eyes.

"I was going to choke you with the blanket or whatever." It's a lie, but I don't want him to trust me. It's better to just not have someone trust you while you do things than someone to trust you and for you to break it. I've done it, and I've decided I don't want to have to deal with it, same with most things.

"Really? I have a hard time believing that." He grunts, picking up the blanket and tossing it back on the bed. "How do you feel?"

"Since when did you care?" I ask cautiously.

"Since when did you want to be lying dead in an alleyway?" He counters, his voice still recovering from sleep.

"You don't come off as very intimidating when you sleep." After the words have left my mouth, I realize how creepy that sounds. Well, now he knows I was watching him.

"The Joker looks innocent when he sleeps." Batman rises, stretching briefly.

"Actually, he looks…Insane."

"How would you know?" He glances at me, curiosity lingering in his gaze.

"Just because he's my boss doesn't mean I never contemplated killing him." It's the truth in its simplest form. The first time I actually tried to suffocate the Joker with a pillow was when I realized the dream world doesn't make everyone look like cuddly babies.

He snorts in response, pushing gently past me as he headed for the door. "You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"How do you feel?" His tone hints at annoyance, but it's only slightly.

"I feel like crap, if that's what you mean." I start to cross my arms when I grimace at the pain it causes.

"I bet you're regretting what you did earlier."

"Is there any chance I can take a shower or freshen up? I feel like I'm filthy from the inside out," I reply, not acknowledging what he said.

"Your wounds are still healing." After seeing my expression, he adds, "The bathroom is the door next to your bed." Raising an eyebrow, I glance over at what I thought was a closet.

"Damn, I never thought Batman was a rich boy." Of course, it makes sense that he is. He'd have to be in order to be able to obtain his fancy toys.

"The towels are under the sink. I'll go see if I have anything that will fit you." How awkward this must be for him, having to fetch clothes for a complete stranger. After he's gone, I slip into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I'll run a bath, and hopefully my wounds won't take offense. When I stare at my back in the mirror, I realize how bad they actually are. It's as if he literally dug my wings out from my skin. Now that I think about it, he probably did. The holes are sewed up neatly, but they're a mess. Extremely swollen and inflamed, I'm surprised they don't hurt more than they do.

Once I figure out how to turn the water on, I wait patiently, retrieving a lush towel from the sink. He has it good, up in his mansion. If he knows who I am, I want to know who he is. He hasn't exactly revealed much about himself, but from the mansion he has to be one of the rich people who are usually parading around in private parties or charity balls. Batman isn't old; I know that, so he must have been born into wealth.

Still contemplating this, I turn off the water and test the temperature with one toe. Perfect. I then submerge myself slowly, wincing when the water touches my wounds. It soothes them though, and I find relief in the fancy bathtub. I search for something to wash myself with, finally locating a small sponge along with two mini bottles of shampoo and conditioner, resembling the ones you get from hotels.

A knock at the door startles the living hell out of me, and I manage to get out quickly, wrapping the towel around myself. "Yeah?" I crack open the door, peeking through to see what the guy wants.

"I found some clothes. They should fit." He doesn't sound embarrassed, which only says he's used to having women in his mansion. He must be a bachelor, since I haven't seen a Mrs. Although, it's not like I've been exploring the mansion.

"Thanks," I say, easing a hand out the door and gesturing. When I feel clothing, I withdraw it and shut the door. Placing them on the sink, I slide back into the tub, lean my head back, and proceed to relax.

An hour later, I'm drying off, and I regard the clothing he gave me. They belong to a woman, being a nice little blouse, a skirt that reaches a little past my knees, and some underclothing that is extremely awkward. I hold up the underwear he gave me, practically ready to have a heart attack. They're made of lace and have more decorative holes than a sponge. I don't have much of a choice, so I'll have to deal with it. He must have some super skills at knowing a girl's sizes, because everything fits. It makes me suspicious that he knows so much. I rummage through the drawers to find a small hairbrush. At least I can comb my hair.

When I emerge, shifting uncomfortably, a man is looking out the window, dressed in a black suit with his hands behind his back. He turns to face me, and I recognize him immediately. Bruce Wayne, the owner of the Wayne Enterprises. Batman. It all makes sense now. He scrutinizes me as if I'm a sculpture, causing me to feel even more uncomfortable. "It'll have to do," he finally says, going to the door.

"Whoa, what's going on? Why didn't you tell me you were Bruce Wayne? Are you taking me somewhere or something?" I demand, grimacing when my back begins to throb. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I can't go out."

"Right, I nearly forgot." He withdraws a syringe and pulls out my arm, injecting swiftly.

"What the hell!" I push him away, my hand covering the spot he injected me. "What's wrong with you?"

"It's morphine. It's more concentrated, so don't worry about the pain. As for your other questions, you're coming with me to a party. Here, put these on." He gestures to a pair of black heels lying on the bed. Dumbfounded, I do so, a quizzical look on my face the whole time. They match the black skirt, while my red blouse must compliment my hair, bringing out the copper like red always does. He exits the room, but I don't follow until I grab my necklace. Surprisingly, there's a new chain on it, and I slip it on easily. I don't know what he's thinking, taking me to a party. I'm shocked at what just happened; Bruce Wayne is Batman and he wants to take me out. I can't help but wonder what his real motive is.


	4. Visit from A Madman

Chapter Three

"When are you going to tell me what we're actually doing?" I demand in a soft whisper, my arm tucked through his as we walk around meeting Gotham's richest.

"Don't worry, it's just some detective work," he replies, his voice equally quiet.

"I wish it didn't involve meeting people," I mutter before flashing a smile at a random person. Bruce had made me put makeup on before we went in, so I hope it doesn't look bad. Well, now I'm worrying about what I look like. The next thing I know, I'll be babbling about how the other people look. Although, now that I think about it, that blue is _so _not her color…Shaking my head, I clear my mind of all thought.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne! I'm surprised to see you here!" A short, round faced woman accompanied by an extremely thin man make their way over. "And who is this young lady?"

"It has been a while, Mr. and Mrs. Potts. This is a friend of mine, Noelle Walters. Noelle, Mr. and Mrs. Potts." He introduces us politely, and I smile awkwardly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I say, nodding my head slightly.

"Bruce, you bring a different lady to every party! You're so scandalous!" She bats his arm with one hand, laughing. I fight to keep the smile on my face, itching to just choke her with her own diamond necklace. "But you never know, this one could be a keeper." She winks at me before pulling her husband over to the entrée table. A faint heat rises to my cheeks in embarrassment at the seemingly harmless comment. Thankfully, Bruce doesn't seem to notice, and he leads me up the stairs overlooking everything.

"So now are you going to tell me?" I ask again, dropping his arm.

"Of course. Recently, the Joker has acquired some expensive handouts, and I know it's one of the people at this party," he explains lowly.

"But how is this supposed to help? What are you going to do, go up and ask if anybody here works with the Joker? Yeah, like that's going to work." He glances down at me sharply before leaning against the rail.

"You'll see," he says simply, bringing the glass of champagne to his lips. A sudden scream interrupts, and he sets it on a small table before looking over to see what the problem is. Meanwhile, I feel a sharp pain in my temple, resembling the beginning of a headache, only more concentrated. "Just a spider," he reports, facing me. When he sees my pained expression, he frowns. "I thought the morphine would still be in effect."

"It's not my back, it's my head," I reply, wincing. I close my eyes tightly, wanting the pain to go away. It seems like I can never get a rest from the siege of pain. When I open my eyes again, there's a man standing in front of me. Bruce seems to have vanished into thin air. "Who are you? Where's Bruce?" Another scream sounds from the bottom of the stairs, but it's followed by several others. "What the hell?" I start to dash down, but the man grabs my arm. "Let go of me!" I exclaim, yanking and trying to pull away. "Bruce? Bruce?!" I yell, but over the commotion I doubt he can hear me.

"The Joker would like to see you," the man says plainly. He pulls the table up and pushes me into the chair, holding me there. Not surprisingly, the Joker himself strides up the stairs, looking extremely satisfied.

"Ah, here's the little bird. I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten the chore I assigned." So smug.

"You bastard! You ruined my life, you glorified asshole! I hope you choke! I'm going to pull out your eyes and feed them to you! You asshole!" I scream, seething with pure rage. Red seeps at the corners of my vision, and I yank myself free of the thug, leaping for the Joker. I manage to tackle him to the ground, but after I land a few blows to his face, the thug is pulling me back. I squirm and try to kick the giant in the shin, though he's unaffected. The Joker rises, smiling widely.

"I see the little bird is still a wild cat," he purrs in his sickly sweet voice, wiping the blood from his mouth.

"What have you done with Bruce?" I demand, narrowing my eyes. "If you hurt him, so help me I'll-"

"You'll what? Punch me? Kick me? Bite me? Rip out my intestines?" He taunts, pulling out a knife. Shaking his head, he strokes the blade. "This is the same knife I cut your wings with, little bird. Did you ever wonder what I did with your wings?" I swallow nervously. "I thought they would make a great wall decoration, and they did. I got many compliments on them."

"You're sick!" I say, spitting on the ground. "Where is Bruce?"

"You mean the man I hired you to spy on? Don't forget about our agreement, or it won't be your wings that will be cut off." His lips turn into an animalistic snarl, and I close my eyes tightly. When I open them again, he's gone, and Bruce lays on the floor unconscious.

"Bruce!" I practically dive to his side and shake his shoulder. When I get no response, I slap his cheeks. I put my ear to his chest, only to hear silence. "Damn it, I don't know what to do!" My voice is desperate, and I sit up, trying to remember the babysitting course I took in which they taught CPR. I place my hands at the end of the ribcage and pump thirty times. I tilt his head back and blow air into his lungs. I pump again, my hands shaking with fear. Damn the Joker! Damn him! I start to blow air into his lungs again when I get a response. Before I realize what's happening, he's kissing me. My mind goes blank, and I forget that the Joker just stood where I am now.

I snap out of the reverie and propel myself away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, feigning disgust. He sits up, coughing and looking at me with a slight smile. "Blech!" I shake my head.

"What happened?" Bruce asks, rising and holding out his hand. I suddenly remember that night when he saved me, except this time I take it.

"The Joker happened," I answer quietly, avoiding his gaze.

"Hey." He tilts my head up. "What happened?"

"He was reminding me about one of my jobs. He said if I didn't do it I was going to lose a body part." I can't bring myself to tell him that I'm Angel. On my record, the Joker had helped me keep it clean and normal looking, so that nobody could find out Noelle Walters was Angel. That's the only thing I'm thankful for.

"What is this job?"

"It's…" I lick my lips, not wanting to tell him the truth. "He wants me to take out the leader of the Street Rats gang." It's not a lie; he did at one time.

"Ah. What kind of name is Street Rats?"

"You'd be surprised." I offer a small smile, and he takes my arm.

"Well, we'd better leave and let the police clear up everything." He escorts me down the stairs, and I actually begin to feel safe. I look back at the glass of champagne Bruce left on the table. I stare at it for a few moments, and then turn back. Behind me, the sound of shattering glass is heard. I glance at where it once stood, but it's gone. Frowning, I allow Bruce to walk me outside. I could have sworn I felt a little tug.


	5. Is this Love?

**So, this chapter is going to be partially from Bruce's P.O.V., except it will be in third person, just so I can differentiate. Thanks for all your support, and please enjoy! :D Stay awesome!**

Chapter Four:

Bruce's P.O.V.

He glances at Noelle from the corner of his eye, wondering what she must be thinking. It's clear to him that she's bothered by something, though she didn't say after he asked. Bruce mainly concentrates on the road ahead as he drives them to his mansion, but his mind keeps straying to when she gave him mouth-to-mouth. It frustrates him, confusing as to why he feels this way towards someone he hardly knows.

_Independent, strong, active, clearly stubborn…_He checks off some of her personality traits that stand out the most to him. She's not like the others. Different, yes, different. Where the other girls he's met were haughty or lacking the bravery to say anything, Noelle could care less about social status while being bold at the same time. Bruce glances at her again, only to find her staring at him with her hazel eyes.

"So, how do you plan on dealing with the Street Rats?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"I'm not sure yet. It shouldn't be too hard; they're all amateurs. They're just street thieves." Her voice, smooth and clear, quivers slightly.

"If they're so harmless, why would the Joker want their leader dead?" He frowns, turning the street corner only to get stuck in a traffic jam.

"He stole something from the Joker." Her answer is vague, but he doesn't press. Tapping on the wheel with his fingers, Bruce sighs.

"Is there a special someone in your life?" He inquires lightly, trying to pass it off as just a question to make time go by.

"No…Why do you ask?" Her gaze is suspicious.

"I was just thinking of possible targets the Joker might go after." It's a save he's lucky to have.

"Right. What about you?"

"Well…" He pauses, Rachel coming to mind. Bruce opens his mouth, then closes it again, indecisive. "No," he finishes finally, the traffic beginning to flow again.

"I guess we can be single buddies," she jokes, though half-heartedly.

"Yeah." He drives the next twenty minutes in silence, and when he's in the mood for talking, they're already at the mansion.

"Damn. I'm still getting used to seeing it," Noelle says softly. He smiles in amusement.

"You know," Bruce begins, getting out and opening her door. "If you want to, you could stay." She bursts out laughing, covering her mouth with both hands. _Good one, Bruce._ Years of practice are the only thing keeping him from turning red.

"You're kidding, right? Me? Stay in your mansion? Hah!" She stops when she sees his face. "Wait…You're serious?" He nods, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I think Alfred has something made for us to eat, if you're hungry," he says, changing the subject.

"Alfred?" Noelle tilts her head in curiosity.

"My butler." He leads her up to the main doors when she suddenly winces. "Is it your back?" She nods, staggering a little. Frowning, he wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from falling, and the door opens.

"Hello, Master Bruce. I see the young lady is feeling better," he comments, letting the two inside. "Oh dear."

"What is it?" Bruce's anxiety kicks in when he catches the shock in Alfred's voice.

"Her back…" At this, Noelle collapses, a dark stain blossoming on the back of her blouse. Cursing, he acts quickly, scooping the unconscious woman into his arms and carrying her up the stairs, laying her gently on the bed before removing her upper clothing. The stitches holding her wounds together have broken and fresh blood streams out in rivers. "Damn it! Alfred, grab a couple towels and the medicine kit!" Alfred nods and exits swiftly while Bruce applies pressure to both wounds. "It's going to be okay," he murmurs repeatedly, taking the needle and thread from Alfred while wiping away the red pooling around the holes. His hands shake, but he forces them to steady, gently pushing the needle through the skin and connecting it with the other side. After he's finished tying the last knot on her other wound, he retreats to a chair in the corner, slumping down with exhaustion, mainly from the adrenaline.

"It's not as bad as it looks, Bruce," Alfred says in a soft voice upon inspecting her back. "But we'll probably have to change the stitches every few days to prevent them from breaking." He doesn't answer, merely taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He eventually goes to the bathroom to wash his hands, returning to his station with a more calm expression, although the fear still flashes in his eyes.

After an hour passes, he rises quietly, heading to the bedside and stooping over her, slowly planting a kiss on her cheek. He wonders if it's just his imagination when she smiles.

Noelle's P.O.V.

My head throbs painfully, a groan escaping my lips. I ache all over, feeling as if I've been hit head on by a rhinoceros. I don't dare open my eyes, not ready for the likely bombardment of light. I feel a hand on my own, and if I weren't busy being immobilized, I would be blushing. Why would Bruce bother with me? There are plenty other, more attractive, girls out there who are more than willing to throw themselves at his feet. I don't even know why I'm thinking about this right now, especially when I need to figure out how to evade the Joker and thwart whatever plans he has up his sleeve.

"Noelle?" It's Bruce; I'd know that voice anywhere. Finally opening my eyes, I find the room's light to be dimmed. I can still make out his face, his normally groomed black hair messy and just having an overall look of exhaustion. It's…How do I word this? Cute? Adorable? He resembles a tired puppy wanting to snuggle with its owner, except even with that I could never get involved with him, despite what I feel or what I think I feel.

"You look like you've been through hell," I murmur.

"I could say the same for you." His lips tilt up in a warm smile.

"What happened?" I start to move, but he shakes his head.

"Your wounds opened up and you lost quite a bit of blood, which is why you passed out." Is that worry I see in his eyes?

"The Joker…What do we plan to do now?"

"I'll take care of it tonight. You need to rest." Bruce squeezes my hand gently before starting to exit.

"Wait." I shift my position, which I sincerely regret afterwards. "Are you…I mean…Is there..." I struggle to find the words. "Can you stay? It's lonely in here, and I just…" He merely walks back and sits down at my side. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Minutes pass while I watch him, his head lowering as he slips into unconsciousness.

"If you're tired I can make room," I say before realizing what the words coming out of my mouth mean.

He's too sleepy to even raise an eyebrow, and I wonder if these past nights if he's actually been sleeping, or if he's been out in Gotham playing super hero. I force myself to scoot over, not caring when little shocks of pain work their way through my back. Surprisingly, the sheets aren't stained red, so he must have changed them when I was out. I pat the spot next to me after placing a line of pillows as a barrier.

"Consider it the Wall of China," I offer, trying to make him laugh. He manages a soft chuckle, heaving himself up onto the bed, staying on the far side. "Don't fall off the bed. If I'm being a hog just tell me." He's already asleep before I finish speaking, and I smile. Sheesh, what has gotten into me? Falling for the billionaire hero, are you Noelle? I listen to his breathing, letting it act as a lullaby.

When I wake a few hours later, the Wall of China has been compromised, not by Bruce, but by me, strangely. He's lying on his back, while I've practically decimated the wall I established, resting my head on his chest. I don't bother to move, because I'll probably end up in the same position again. I'm surprised my back hasn't bothered me, and I feel his arm suddenly wrap around me, keeping me close. Oh, Noelle, how naïve you are.


	6. The Truth

**Just in case you guys wanted a visual of Noelle, I found a picture that meets most of what she looks like, except she looks more down to Earth and such. **** images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSO9SG1o2V3L2tN0VzDxv5mr242asQvPQQ9ZjSna7 8S0YgT12mh**

Chapter Five

When I wake up, Bruce is gone. I start to panic for some reason, even though he probably only got up because it's time for him to be the Batman. This brings up a question; how long was I asleep? I certainly slept better than I have in weeks, so at least something good came out of this.

I don't know if I should tell him about my alias. I was openly against him and all he stood for. I was definitely not above ambushing him in the middle of one of his rescues, which resulted in a few fights but none that left either of us with broken anything. I'm just scared about what he'll think of me. Will he force me to leave? Will he just toss me out right then? No matter what, he'll probably end up breaking something far harder to repair; my heart.

It sounds stupid, even when I'm thinking it. I never believed in love after my mother died. I always thought it was something humans invented to act as a safe haven from all the hate and chaos. But I don't know what I think about it anymore. I can't stop thinking about the way he smiles, even the rude remarks he says sometimes are why he's found a way to worm himself into my mind and heart. I can't believe that he could be so selfless either. With all this money, you'd think he'd be one of the money hoarders, but at night he makes up for it by protecting the weak while delivering justice. Justice. I always thought it was never fair, but I couldn't want something more than giving the Joker what's been coming to him for a while.

My back is really starting to agitate me, being a liability towards our little mission against the Joker. "I see you're awake, Miss Walters," Bruce's butler says, carrying in a tray of food. "I've brought you a little something, since you haven't eaten in a while."

"What time is it?" I eye the plate of fruit after sitting up slowly as to refrain from hurting myself.

"It's half past midnight," he answers, setting the tray down in front of me.

"Really? Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce is attending to some matters." As in he's being Batman. I nod, picking up one of the strawberries and nibbling on it, wanting to appear polite, when in reality I want to stuff my face. "Just set it on the nightstand when you're finished." He smiles before exiting. Checking to make sure he isn't coming back in, I cram several in my mouth at the same time, my cheeks resembling those of a squirrel's.

"How attractive," a voice says after I stuff myself a second time, scaring the living hell out of me.

"Holy crap!" I mean to exclaim, but instead it sounds like, "Howy cwap!"

"If you were that hungry you could have gone downstairs." Bruce finishes lifting himself through the window, dressed in his armor. I quickly swallow, however painful it may be, clearing my throat.

"I was just seeing how many I could fit in my mouth. You know, in case I ever need to." I shrug, starting to get off the bed.

"You still need to rest." He puts a hand on my shoulder, sitting me down.

"Uh, no, I've had enough of resting." I gently brush his hand off and finish standing, suddenly feeling light headed.

"You sure?" His tone is a mixture of anxiety and amusement, however strange that may sound.

"Yeah. I'm positive." Taking a deep breath, I take a step, then another, then another, until I'm standing in the doorway. "You know, why didn't you take the front door or something?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"Well, first off I don't go through the front door, I go to my cave. Second of all, I was just checking on you."

"What? Were you worried about me?" I turn to grin at him teasingly. I remember I forgot to put the tray on the nightstand, so I shift my gaze to it. I wonder if what I felt with the glass was real, or just part of my imagination. Only one way to find out. I concentrate on it, completely missing the rest of the conversation with Bruce. To my surprise, the tray flings through the air, barely missing Bruce's shoulder.

"What was that?" He leaps to the side, frowning.

"Do you have ghosts in your house?" I inquire innocently.

"No." He glances at me suspiciously. "Why?"

"I dunno, maybe a ghost moved it or something." I shrug and exit the room, wanting to explore this mansion of his.

"Where are you going?" He follows me, staying at my side.

"On an adventure!" I say in my most enthralled voice. "Oh, this'll be fun, Bruce!" I slug his shoulder playfully, but wince afterwards, my back clearly disagreeing with me. Plus, I doubt he even felt it, so no points for me.

"This doesn't have anything to do with the tray, does it?" He asks, taking me by the elbow.

"What do you mean? I've been cooped in there for an eternity and I want to see your house! Besides, didn't you offer me a chance to stay here?" I raise an eyebrow, doubtful that it slipped his mind.

"At least let me change."

"Fine. While you're at it, you can take me with you to the Bat Cave." I smile and gesture for him to lead the way. Taking charge, Bruce heads towards the other side of the second floor, leading me into a room with a piano and several bookshelves. He plays a few keys on it, a loud scraping noise sounding as one of the bookcases unhinges, swinging open to reveal a small passageway. Following more slowly, I take hold of his cape so I don't trip in the darkness.

"How the hell do you see down here, Bruce?" I mutter, my eyes straining. I practically knock him down the stairs when the bookshelf slams behind us.

"Relax, Noelle. You're going to kill both of us if you don't calm down." Right. As if that is going to soothe my nerves.

When we reach the bottom, the space is…breathtaking. A wide, cavernous area with water pouring from the ceiling stretches for what feels like miles. While he leads me, platforms emerge from the bottom, dripping wet and opening a path so we can continue. And I thought his mansion was cool.

"What do you think?" He outstretches his arms to everything, pride clear in his voice.

"It's incredible. Have you ever thought of having paid tours in here? People would love this stuff!" I continue to stare in awe, completely blown away by the genius of it all.

"Thanks, but too much tourism is bad for the identity." Bruce grins, going to a rack where I suppose his suit goes.

"I'll uh, take a look around," I say, leaving him to his privacy. Not that I regret it, because the place is just filled with high tech toys. I find a large desk with several screens, along with a swivel chair. Plopping down in it, I stare at the computers with interest, reading all the articles about crime in Gotham. Geez, I never realized he took it so seriously to the point of research.

I start to think about how honest Bruce has been with me, how he revealed his ultimate secret to me without a second thought. That kind of trust is…frightening. I don't like to be trusted, only because I don't want to be the person to break it. It reminds me how I haven't exactly been telling him everything. I'm too scared to, I'm afraid. But I know I have to. He deserves that much from me.

"Enjoying the seat?" He spins the chair around, dressed in a maroon sweater with black pants. It's a change from the suits he's been wearing.

"It's very comfortable," I admit, licking my lips. "I, uh, I have to say, I haven't been the most honest person in the world, Bruce." I avoid his gaze, eventually rising and walking away, my back facing him.

"What do you mean?" I can practically hear him frown.

"I never told you why I worked for the Joker. In fact, I don't remember telling you anything about me working for the Joker, except for a few pieces here and there." I pause before asking, "You have heard of Angel, right?"

"Angel? The winged girl who was a mercenary and worked…." He trails off, obviously having put the pieces together.

"He told me my mission was to spy on you," I say quietly, my voice shaking. "He said that right before he cut my wings off." I laugh bitterly. "I don't even know how I grew the damn things. Maybe it had something to do with the chemical spill I was in at the company I worked for. I don't know. But they set me free. 'Happiness and love are illusions,' I told myself. 'They're just imaginary things meant to blind us to the evil in the world.' So I hired myself out. Batman was someone I opposed, because justice was never fair in my eyes. There was always a losing side." I stare at the rivers of water pouring from the ceiling. "You know, after my wings were taken I started being able to use my mind in ways I've never known possible." I hear him inhale, but I only chuckle. "I sound crazy. Maybe I am. The tray, that was me. At the party, before we left, I knocked a glass over just by staring at it. It seems like when I'm one step closer to being normal, something else happens to make me completely different again." When I'm finally done speaking, a few tears have decided to slip down my cheeks. I wipe them away angrily, rubbing my eyes.

"I don't know what to say." He sounds so calm, so reserved, and it kills me.

"How do you really feel, Bruce?" I ask, whirling around to face him. "Stop hiding your emotions. I want to know where you stand. Am I a liability to you? What am I to you?" My voice cracks, the seams filling with desperation.

**Bruce's P.O.V.**

"What am I to you?" Her words ring through his head continuously. _How do I say it, Noelle? You're more precious to me than you think; if only you could realize that. Your smile, your laugh, and the way you're not afraid to be yourself… It's only been a matter of days, but it feels like it's been an eternity, an eternity of happy days I never thought I would have. _

"You, Noelle Walters, are the angel in my life." After he says it, shock registers on her face, then confusion, and finally, embarrassment.

"You're a bad liar."

"Or maybe I'm just overly honest." He crosses the few feet separating them, wrapping her in a gentle embrace.

"You're not angry with me?" She trembles in his arms, seemingly overwhelmed.

"No. I'm glad you told me the truth; that's all that matters to me." He sets her back, holding her face in his hands. "Just promise me that you won't keep any more secrets from me. If we're going to work together, we have to be honest." She nods in understanding. "Good." Bruce releases her, turning to head back into the mansion.

"You're forgetting something, Bruce Wayne." His turn to be confused, he turns around, only to have her pull him into a kiss that leaves his lips tingling. "Now, let's go track down a madman."


	7. The Batmobile

**Well guys, I am so excited! I've gotten far more support for this than I thought I would, and I can't even begin to describe how appreciative I am of all you guys! Stay awesome!**

Chapter Six

"You're going to teach me how to fight?" I raise an eyebrow, nearly ready to burst into laughter. "I can handle myself, Bruce."

"I know you can handle yourself, I just want to teach you some more effective moves."

"More effective moves? I recall knocking you flat a few times in the past. Where were your 'effective moves' then?" I can't help but feel smug, crossing my arms. He merely smiles, shaking his head.

"Here. Attack me." Bruce pats his chest, remaining in a standing position.

"Now?" I ask, surprised he wants to get it started so fast.

"I didn't stutter, did I?" I stick my tongue out at him before stretching.

"Sorry if I hurt you or anything."

"If anybody should be worried, it's me. Your stitches were just changed and I don't want to break them." He seems genuinely anxious.

"Bruce, my back is fine. It was just that one time, you don't have to act like I'm a piece of china." He opens his mouth to respond, but I'm already dashing for him, meaning to knock him flat on his back. Instead, I catch a pocketful of air, landing on my face. Bruce is fast, I have to give him credit for that. To be honest, my skills are those of a street fighter, since that's where I learned. Plus, my wings were extremely helpful when fighting bumbling bozos. Except he's not what you'd call a bumbling bozo.

"You have to be fast to catch me." He pulls me up effortlessly, grinning.

"Don't be so sure," I say, slapping his arm playfully. The next time, however, I engage in hand-to-hand combat, feigning an uppercut only to gently slap him upside the head. "Don't take it personally, bud." I shrug, though his game face comes on, the competition kicking up a notch.

I concentrate on the plate sitting on one of the tables, willing it to move. It starts to quiver, then float, twirling quickly towards him. I make it purposely miss, using it only as something to distract him. While he's side stepping, I aim a kick at his ribs, though I don't put full force into it, merely knocking him on his back. Grinning, I help him up, feeling triumphant that I succeeded.

Bruce makes a move for me, and I brace for an impact that never comes, at least not from where I expect it. He trips me with a sweep of his leg, but before I can even hit the ground he's lifting me back up, twirling me into his arms.

"Since when did this become a dance lesson?" I ask, tilting my head back so I can look into his eyes.

"Since I felt like holding you." After that night, he's been sweeping me off my feet, sometimes literally. I'm not complaining, mind you; it's starting to grow on me. He turns me around to face him, pulling me closer and beginning to dance with me. I laugh, although soon the even goes silent. I lean my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"Bruce?"

"Shh." He sits in the swivel chair before all the monitors, pulling me into his lap. I feel like a child, a very safe child. The only sound is the patter of the water echoing through the cave. After a few moments pass, he finally brings his mouth to mine, cupping a side of my face with one hand while holding me with his free arm. It can't be real, the way he kisses me. I go limp, my mind swiped clean. For a moment I can't even remember my own name. How is it possible for him to do this to me? Whenever he holds me, I forget about everything else. The Joker, Gotham, the very stitches in my back…I don't know how he does it.

"Bruce…" I murmur, but he merely quiets me with another kiss.

**Bruce's P.O.V.**

He brushes his lips across her jaw line, then her neck. She shivers when he reaches her shoulder, and he goes back up to her mouth. Noelle's smile warms him, as if the heat of it is radiating in waves.

"Noelle." The word tumbles off his tongue gently, loving the taste of the letters as they form together. "Promise me something."

"Anything," she says, staring up at him with her eyes flecked green and gold among a brown canvas.

"When this is all over, promise me you'll stay." He feels her sharp intake of breath in surprise.

"I promise, Bruce," she whispers after a few moments pause. "I'll stay for as long as you want me to."

"Good." He kisses her again as he rises, keeping her in his arms.

"What are you doing?" Noelle asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going to take you out on a drive," he answers simply.

"In what?"

"In that." He sets her down, pointing to a heavily armored vehicle with two wheels in the front and two doubled pairs in the back.

"Is this the Batmobile?" She stares at it in amazement, glancing back at him.

"More or less. You've already been in it, but you weren't conscious."

"Ah. I remember parts of it, just not all. Getting gouged in the back does that to you." The main tone in her voice is amusement, but there's a hidden bitterness.

"Hey." Bruce grabs her arm and turns her to face him. "We're going to give that madman what's been coming to him for a while."

"I know. I just wish he could go through what I did." She lowers her head only to have it lifted.

"Believe me, I do too, love." Bruce kisses her forehead. "Now what do you say about that ride? You could come with me into Gotham so we can take care of some matters, maybe ask a few thugs what they know."

"I'd love to." Her lips tilt into a small smile.

He can't help but watch Noelle look around with wide eyes, appearing to be a child in a store full of big toys. It's clear she can hardly keep still in the seat from how she's shifting her position frequently.

"You seem impatient," he comments, chuckling as he starts the engine.

"Holy hell," she mutters. "It's like you have two lions in this thing."

"You know, I just might. I've never checked." Upon saying this, Noelle laughs, slapping his arm.

"You're crazy."

"You'd have to be crazy to be with me right now." Her eyes wander to the suit he's wearing, curiosity in her gaze.

"If I'm going to help you, I want my own costume."

"It's not a costume; it acts as armor and as an identity keeper."

"Sure, Bruce. It's a costume." She pats her fingers on her cheek. "I could keep my alias Angel and just have a suit. I mean a little mask at least."

"Here, I think I have something." He pushes a button, the top sliding open as he hops out. She waits patiently, and when he returns, he holds something in his hand.

"That's a masquerade mask." Noelle pretends not to be interested, but he sees the way she stares at the feathers rimming the sides.

"Yes. But considering that's what your old mask was, this should suit you just fine." He doesn't tell her that it's actually something he made himself for her, on one of the days she slept in.

"Well, it'll have to do." She accepts it from him, secretly admiring it.

"Admit you like it."

"You got me there Bruce," she says, smiling. "It's kick ass."

"I thought so. Now, you might want to hang on." He presses a few buttons, the top sliding closed. He pushes another button, and the rumbling of something moving echoes through the cave.

"Can I ask how you're going to get this thing out of here?"

"The waterfall." Noelle looks ahead at the heavy streams of water pouring down from the ceiling.

"But there's a rock wall behind it," she objects, frowning.

"Don't worry about it. Everything's covered." The vehicle leaps forward, increasing in speed every moment that passes by. The waterfall nears, while Noelle squeezes her eyes shut, gripping his arm tightly. He directs it towards the ramp, and once they're in the air, water droplets pelt the sides. They land with a large thump, sitting outside of the cave and on a small road. "You can open your eyes now."

"We're not dead?" She pats herself, then looks out the window. "Damn, that was awesome!" He smiles in response, starting it up again. "I'm more than ready to go stretch a little. I know I could use it."

"Same here." He hides a frown when he sees the eager look in her eyes, as if she's welcoming the violence that will follow this. The moment subsides when she grabs one of his free hands, holding onto it tightly.


	8. Vanishing Act

Chapter Seven

"I'm pumped!" I exclaim as I leap out of the Batmachine (a nickname I created for it). "By the way, do you need a license for one of these?" I tap the black vehicle, grinning.

"My driver's license is good enough," he responds, slipping a few things into the pockets on his belt.

"Have you ever gotten a ticket? Speeding perhaps?" A set of voices interrupts our conversation, and they're coming from a nearby alley. "How are we going to hide this thing?"

"Easy." He presses something on his wrist, the Batmachine disappearing from view. "Camouflage."

"Wow. You have never ceased to amaze me, Bruce."

"I'd like to keep it that way." I nod, turning to see if the men are out yet. When I turn back, Bruce has vanished.

"Real smooth," I mutter, sliding my mask on.

"Hey, lady!" A man stumbles out of the alleyway. "You looking for a good time?"

"Sure am," I call back, unconsciously reaching for my sword. Although, it's not there. It reminds me I need to visit my apartment again. Instead, I settle for the knife in my pocket; surely these thugs have nothing better.

"Sam, Juan! There's a lady over here who wants a good time." Two more men emerge beside him, all clearly drunk. Jeez, how much alcohol does this city have?

"What's with the mask?" One asks, frowning.

"You don't like it?" I pretend to sound hurt, puckering my bottom lip out in a pout.

"Of course we do!" Another interrupts, jabbing him in the side. "Come with us, we have a nice apartment a few blocks away, right Jimmy?"

"Right, Sam!" The one named Jimmy reaches for me, but I evade him by walking away.

"Where you going?" Sam steps forward, allowing me to catch sight of the tattoo on his wrist. He's from one of the gangs hand in hand with the Joker clan. I stop walking, letting him wrap one arm around my waist. I have to refrain from giving him a good kick where it counts, taking a deep breath. The other two join him, acting as an escort, though they should be watching themselves from me and Bruce. Speaking of billionaires, where is he? My eyes flit to the rooftops, as if I could see him. When the Batman doesn't want to be found, he's gone without a trace.

"So baby, what's your name?"

"Angel," I answer, waiting for it to sink in.

"You're that winged bitch the Joker's looking for!" Before they can say anything else, I'm tripping one, elbowing the other in the face, and pushing another to the ground. I whip out the knife, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I concentrate on Sam's knife he's groping for, sending it flying out of his reach. Something lands next to me, and I instinctually send a punch their way. It's deflected easily, so I realize it's Bruce.

"Some timing you have," I comment, kicking one of the drunken men. "I could handle myself. They're all wasted."

"I know. I was doing an errand. Do you recognize any of them?"

"This one is a member of an ally to the Joker's group," I say, pointing to Sam. "The other two are just your average thugs." He nods, picking Sam up by his shirt. I marvel at how easy he makes it look, though in the future, I could be doing that with no hands.

"Talk," Bruce says simply. I'm surprised that's all he has to say in order for the tsunami to start.

"The Joker's planning somethin' big, but I don't know what! Honest! He's making some guys make some kind of drug. I heard it's supposed to make you go crazy or somethin'. He's kidnapping scientist people, but I ain't heard nothin' about why he is!" The man stammers, holding his hands up in surrender.

"That's all I need to know." With a carefully delivered blow to the head, Bruce knocks him unconscious, sitting him on the sidewalk. The other two men have long since disappeared. I cross my arms, turning to face him.

"Sick bastards. I remember seeing this stuff all the time when I was younger," I say, the disgust evident in my voice.

"You need to stop doing things like that," he says simply.

"Doing what?" I'm taken aback, confused.

"Being amazing." He brings me in for a kiss, holding me closer to him.

"What if someone sees us?" I protest, though yet again, he shuts me up with his mouth.

"I really couldn't care less," Bruce murmurs, kissing me once more before letting go.

"It's the Batman!" A voice yells, echoing down the street. Several other voices support it.

"Damn," I hear him curse under his breath. A group of thugs pour out of the alleyways, all wielding some sort of weapon, from a baseball bat to just a simple rock.

"The Joker's put a fine price on both of your heads!" Someone shouts, agreement rippling through the crowd.

"I guess he doesn't think we make a good couple," I say, trying to at least help the mood. Bruce merely grunts in response, throwing something on the ground. Smoke fills my senses, getting into my nose and eyes. I feel an arm wrap around my waist, the sensation of flying following. He sets me down on a nearby roof, watching in amusement as the thugs search for him in vain. "Well, that's the third time you've amazed me today."

"Certainly not the last. I'm going to get them from behind while you distract them, okay?" I nod in understanding. "Good." Before I can say anything, he's leaping across to the other building.

"Distraction. Right." I look for anything I could use, finally settling for a fire hydrant. I stare at it for a moment, imagining the valve opening. It flies off, knocking one of the men in the chest, water shooting out in a steady river. While they're busy investigating that, I stare at one of the light poles. If I can knock it down, it'll be my best stunt yet. Relaxing my tense muscles, I focus my gaze upon it, feeling a tug similar to the one I felt with the champagne glass, except stronger. The pole collapses sparks from the light catching some of the other men. I smirk in triumph.

"I see the little bird can't stop wrecking havoc." I freeze in my spot, my heart stopping. "What? Did you really think I was going to let you have a happy ending with Bruce Wayne? I don't get it. First you hate the guy, now you love him. I hired you, yet you repay me with betrayal." I feel a hand grab my shoulder in a steel grip.

"Don't you dare touch me," I snarl, whirling around to kick him in the groin. He catches my leg, a smile creeping onto his painted face before he twists it. I fall down, banging my head against the rail as I go down. I'm not letting him get away this time. I roll to the side before tripping him, rising just as he hits the ground. I step on his chest, bending down to stare him in the face. "I'm going to make you feel the pain I had to go through. I'm going to make sure that you're screaming, and when you go unconscious, I'm going to add scars to your face until you wake up." I grab his shirt, hauling him up. "Bruce will be back soon. He'll help me-" The Joker bursts out laughing, shaking his head.

"Batman won't be coming back, darling. I made sure of that."

"W-what?" I hesitate, my hold on him loosening. He takes my hand off, straightening his jacket.

"That's right. When you were busy messing with my boys down there, I was sending Bats a present in the form of a tranquilizer. Now my dear, if you'll excuse me." He brushes past me, starting to climb down. I grab him by his greasy hair, yanking him backwards.

"I'm not through with you! After I hang what's left of you for all of Gotham to see, I'm going to get Bruce back. Do you hear me?" The Joker is too busy making a hand gesture to pay attention. At this moment, a small prick of pain blossoms in my neck. Frowning, I retrieve a small dart from my skin.

"Nighty night," he says, his mad laughter the last thing I hear before I'm swamped in darkness.


	9. Surprise

Chapter Eight

"Bruce!" I awaken, screaming his name to the skies, pain erupting within my chest. "Bruce!" I rise, only to fall to my knees, beating the ground with my fists. "Why? Why, damn it?" Every single person I have loved in my life has been wrenched away from me, leaving a wound in my heart each time.

I stand again, my eyes narrowing in fury. The Joker will pay for this, he'll pay with blood. Oh, the things I want to do to him… Perhaps I shall cut his heart while he still lives, making him feel what I have had to go through. I'll gouge two holes in his back, slash him to pieces. He'll be begging for mercy. I won't give it to him.

A power I've never felt before resonates inside me, pulsating strength. I leap off the building, though I don't hit the ground. Instead, I remain suspended mere inches above the sidewalk, gently dropping myself with a soft thump. I begin walking down the street, nearby objects randomly flying everywhere; car alarms blare, windows shatter. I don't care anymore; I don't care what happens to this city. All it has done is caused me grief. My parents died here, my guardian died here, and Bruce was taken from me. This city will be lucky if it survives my rage.

"Get her!" A few thugs charge from an alleyway, only to be thrown against a nearby building, knocked unconscious. I'm focusing on getting back what was stolen; nothing can stop me. Not Gotham, the police, thugs, or the Joker. I've lost too much to give up so easily now. As I continue walking, it dawns on me that it could take forever to find Bruce in these streets. I need to think, if my pain will allow me to.

The Joker's last hideout was an abandoned warehouse by the water, but he's probably moved it. He might have gone to the shut down factory that sits on the other side of the city. I'll try the warehouses first, then the factory. If I still don't find him, I'll search the whole damn island if I have to.

**Bruce's P.O.V.**

He wakes to being rapped on the head, aware of a dull pain spreading throughout his body. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!" The voice seems so far away, his senses temporarily numbed.

"Where's Noelle?" Bruce asks hoarsely, his mouth dry.

"Is my company not enough for you, Bats? Look, I even brought you a present. I used them for decoration, but…It wasn't really what I was going for. I bet you'll have more use for them than I do." A bright light fills his vision, a pair of wings presented before his eyes. Blood stains the stems where a back should have been.

"You belong in an asylum," he growls, straining against his chains. The sight of those pure white feathers dotted red sickens his stomach. "What have you done with Noelle?"

"Ugh. Why do you care so much?" The Joker drops down in a swivel chair, scooting in front of him. "She's fine, most likely tearing up the city looking for you, no doubt planning the cruel things she's going to do to me. Tell me, Bats, have you ever tried a leash on that girl? She doesn't fight for justice; she works for the bad guys." Tossing a knife between his hands, he grins. "I can do you a favor and, well…" He makes a slitting motion. "Toss the body in the ocean and she'll be gone forever."

"Good luck. Noelle can handle herself." Bruce shifts his position, keeping a calm expression.

"Admit it, you've fallen head over heels, haven't you? Does your heart flutter in your chest when she walks in? Do you get the shivers when she looks at you? Hmm? You know, I don't believe I told you the story of how I got these scars." The Joker begins to lean in, but one of his thugs interrupts.

"Boss, that one chic was seen at the warehouse. She was ripping it up, boss." Sweat beads at the sides of his face, eyes shifting from side to side.

"Of course she was. She'll probably be checking the factory next, and all she'll find is a little surprise I made especially for her." Examining his nails, he wears a contented expression.

"She'll get through it; you can't stop her." While the Joker's distracted with speaking to his henchman, Bruce rubs his hands against the rope, a small, cylindrical object falling into his palm. Positioning it carefully, he presses a button, feeling the laser slice through the constraints easily. He keeps his hands behind his back as to feign his continued custody.

"Aren't you optimistic?" The Joker spins around a few times, allowing Bruce to spring into action. Pushing the chair, Joker and all, into one of the thugs, he dashes for the exit, tripping another man. He bursts outside, only to find himself standing at the edge of a very tall building. He should have known the Joker would do this; imprison him in his own Wayne Enterprises.

**Noelle's P.O.V.**

"Welcome, my feathered friend. As you can see, Bats isn't here, and neither am I. Instead, I've decided to give you something to do besides search for lover boy." The Joker's recorded video plays over a large screen hanging from the ceiling. "I'm going to give you an hour to get me a special something from Arkham Asylum." He licks his lips, smiling ruthlessly. "I'd like you to get a small vial with purple liquid inside. It's in their lab; shouldn't be hard to get _if _you manage to get through their new security system. And, for some reason, if you fail, well, you can consider Bats here-"He pauses to turn the camera towards an unconscious Bruce, causing my heart to stop in my chest. "Dead." The screen then goes black, dread worming itself into my stomach. What could he want with some purple liquid? I have no doubt it's going to aid him in another one of his schemes. If I don't get it for him, Bruce is gone. Bruce… He's done so much for me, and if it weren't for him, I'd be lying dead somewhere, among all the other victims killed in Gotham; faceless, nameless. I don't think I could manage living without him, as silly as it sounds.

"I'll find you Bruce, I promise." My words ring through the open space, reminding me I have a mission to do.

A few minutes later, I'm standing outside the gates of Arkham Asylum, the bars towering over my head. They did a pretty good job on keeping people out, though from what I've heard, they haven't done a good job on keeping them in. It's said that patients have escaped multiple times, and some were released under the false idea that they were 'normal' citizens. Most of them were just playing along with what the doctors were telling them. I even remember doing a job that involved breaking someone out of Arkham. It wasn't difficult; so I suppose this shouldn't be any different.

Pushing open the gates, I'm surprised they aren't locked. While I head up to the main doors, I try to remember the floor plan I looked at. I recall a lab; I just didn't pay much attention to it. Now, I wish I did. It shouldn't be that complicated though, and I should get this done within the time limit that I have. Just the thought of the seconds as they tick by makes my palms sweaty. I can't afford to be nervous. Anxiety is what causes slip ups.

Not knowing what else to do, I shove the doors, finding them too, unlocked. What is the purpose of a door if it isn't locked? Entering slowly, I find it completely dark; no lights, no candles, nothing. Have they gone prehistoric or something? It's ridiculous, and a little unnerving. An asylum with no electricity scares the hell out of me, reminding me of those horror movies with the possessed girl who gets committed. The last thing I need is to run across someone like that.

"Um, hello?" There's no response. Well, looking on the bright side, I should be glad I don't have to worry about alarms and security guards. What was it the Joker said? Their new security system? He must have been joking. "Real funny, Joker. Real funny," I mutter.

"Welcome," a voice booms, causing me to clap my hands over my ears. The lights snap on, and once I see what stands before me, I open my mouth to scream.

**Enjoy the cliffhanger! :P**


	10. Found

Chapter Nine

I open my mouth to scream, but not a sound is uttered from my throat. I know now where the staff went; they're hanging by their necks, red grins painted on their faces. A screen dangles behind them, the Joker's face projected upon it.

"You sick bastard! What have you done?" I demand, finally able to say something.

"What? You don't like the new decorations? I thought them quite lovely. You can 'hang' with them, if you want." He laughs at some cruel joke only he gets.

"Where's Batman? I want to know he's okay!"

"Right. Lover boy here is fine, though he's had his better days." Green eyes dark, the camera shifts, focusing on the image of Bruce dangling from the ceiling by his feet, several thugs crowding around him, beating his sides with baseball bats. "It's a Bat piñata, although the only thing we're getting out of him is blood."

"When I get a hold of you, Joker, nothing is going to stop me from ripping your heart out!" I seethe, the rage building in my chest. Each strike to Bruce is only fuel to my vicious fire.

"So you are thinking of me." He turns away to shout, "Hey, Batty, someone wants to speak to you!"

"Noelle?" His voice is heavy with pain, my anger melting away, leaving me with fear. He's so out of it he calls me by my real name.

"Well, your two seconds of fame are over now." Bruce disappears from the sight of the camera. "Tell me, little bird; how does it feel? How does it feel to watch helplessly as your lover is beaten?" I begin to speak, but he shushes me. "Quiet. Do you hear that?"

"All I hear is the sound of me kicking your ass," I snarl, the fire rekindling, growing even larger.

"Really? I hear the ticking of a timer." Grinning, he holds up a small device, ten seconds on the clock. "Bye bye, birdy. It was nice knowing you." I realize what's happening, making a mad dash for the exit. I'm not even close when I feel the explosion hit at full force.

**Bruce's P.O.V.**

"Noelle!" He yells, watching the screen go black.

"That was so…tragic. I always love the part where the heroine dies; it makes for a better ending." The Joker whirls around in his chair, rising to stalk towards Bruce. "I can arrange for her ashes to be gathered, if you want." Before Bruce can say anything, he adds, "Though I think I'll just have the janitors sweep them up."

"You're going to get the death penalty after this," he growls, watching the madman with narrowed eyes.

"Of course I will, but I did in the past too. I've had my share of death's row." Examining his nails, he yawns. "How ya holding up, Bats? I hope the damage is permanent."

"Not as permanent as what I'm going to give you," Bruce threatens, his tone cold.

"You and her do have some similarities, I have to say. Your tendency to make threats in the worst situation imaginable is one. It's…despicable." He picks up a bat, swinging it around. "I've been waiting a long time for this." The Joker smashes it against Bruce's ribs, cackling madly when the crack echoes through the room. Red flashes in his vision, the pain shooting up his body with every movement.

"You're not going to get away…with this Joker," He murmurs, having to pause in mid sentence to catch a breath. Bruce wheezes, closing his eyes. He's not surprised when other hits follow.

**Noelle's P.O.V.**

I don't know how I did it. It's…crazy. Here I am, curled up, a field of telekinetic energy surrounding me, blocking the explosion. I'm alive. "What…I'm…I'm alive! I'm alive!" I exclaim, rising quickly. "Bruce…" I stare at the remnants of the asylum, dust still settling. A few small fires near me are put out with a thought. I've never felt so…Invincible. I know now that I have nothing to fear from the Joker. Nothing at all.

I had observed the setting around Joker and Bruce in an effort to identify their location. I pull up memories of places I've been, hoping to at least find one. There is an old hospital that could be it, but I thought it was demolished. Although, lots of buildings said to be demolished still stand. Go figure.

I pick my way through the rubble, having to jump down from a stone slab. Instead of hitting the ground, I find myself levitating a few inches above it, suspended in mid air. "Holy shit, I'm flying." The familiar rush of freedom courses through my veins, reminding me of what I've been yearning for. I may not have my wings, but I have this newfound power, something far more kick ass.

I begin to ascend, slowly at first, then faster as I get the hang of it. Twirling through the air, I begin to soar, the wind blowing through my hair. I'm so relaxed I nearly forgot about my mission. A part of me wants to fly away, never come back, while another part says I go save Bruce. I'm more compelled to save him than myself. If anyone in this city deserves a life, it's him.

I pick up speed, staring down in an effort to spot the hospital. It's been a while since I've seen it, so it'll probably take a while. My power is going to take some getting used to as well; I find myself nearly dropping a few times. The last thing I need is to be squashed like a grape.

My patience is beginning to dwindle, along with my hope. What if the Joker has already killed him? What if he's broadcasting the image of a dead Batman over the T.V.? What if he's started cutting off parts of Bruce, like he threatened to do weeks ago? These thoughts my drain my hope, but they keep my fire blazing. If Bruce is dead or alive, the Joker's paying, no matter what. I only pray that I can kiss Bruce after it's all over.

I land on the roof of a building, a feeling telling me I'm close. I usually follow my gut instincts; I've found them to be right more than once. A sudden sharp pain shoots up my side, burning. When putting a hand there, I feel something moist, and upon further inspection, I realize I took some damage in the explosion. I can't let it stop me; after covering it with a stripped piece of cloth off my shirt, I lean against the edge, closing my eyes.

The Joker has ruined my life. I should have never worked for him; I should have left when I could. Even so, I would have never met Bruce. A sweet sentiment considering all the cruel things the Joker has caused. All those people hanging in the asylum…I wish I could wipe the image of their eternal smiles from my mind. Bruce may try to stop me, but I'm going to kill Joker. Not tomorrow, not next week, not next month…Today. I'm going to give that bastard what he deserves today.

Looking back up, I catch the sight of a large sign starting with an H. The other words are faded, though I can just make out an L and a P. I'd say that's the hospital. With lifting spirits, I leave the roof, walking on air. It's not that far away; it's just across the street. Luckily, no one is on the road, so if anything goes down in that hospital, it's likely nobody will be injured. I'd hate to cause more deaths.

Reaching the top of the hospital, I swing myself over it, taking a deep breath. My heart pounds out of my chest in anxiety; my stomach wrings itself in knots. I'm afraid of what I'm going to find when I go inside. I take a few more breaths, finally ready. Strolling cautiously to the door, I'm able to prod it open. Why would he leave this unlocked? It makes me wonder if he knows I'm alive. All the more reason to be careful.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, a loud argument reaches my ears. "-I found it!"

"If I hadn't distracted the lady, you wouldn't have gotten it!" Blinking to adjust to the light, I make out two shapes, presumably thugs. One keeps trying to swat something out of the other's hand, their argument growing heated as each second flies by. I could probably sneak past them without their realizing it.

"It's _mine_!" The man exclaims, evading an attack from the thug.

"No, it's _not_!" With a snarl, the antagonist tackles him to the floor, engaging in a fist fight. That's my cue to enter. Dashing down the steps without a sound, I look for a door, locating one off to my right, thankfully away from the fighting men. I slip through unnoticed, not knowing I was holding my breath until I let it out.

I soon discover that I've only walked out of the frying pan, and that the tens of thugs before me must be the fire.

**Bruce's P.O.V.**

"My hands are starting to hurt from holding this bat. How unfortunate." Dropping the blood stained piece of wood, he plops down in a chair, letting out a sigh. Bruce hangs above a puddle of his own blood, his armor cracked in several places, the skin beneath busted.

"Hey uh, boss?" A thug walks in nervously, his gaze shifting from side to side.

"What?" Spinning to face him, he gives his henchman full spotlight.

"Well, uh, we've got a problem."

"A problem? What kind of problem? Speak, unless you want me to beat it out of you."

"Sir, there's a chic who's beating up everybody."

"WHAT?" Spluttering in surprise, the Joker leaps to his feet.

"Um…"

"What does she look like?"

"Brownish red hair, a feathery mask…"

"Damn it! She should be settling to ash as we speak!" Ruthlessly jamming a knife into the thug's heart, he whirls to the monitors, staring at the view projected from the cameras. She's in the cafeteria mopping up the rest of his group. No matter, he has an escape plan prepared already. He'll let her have Batman, but she won't get to kill him. He glances at the unconscious Batman, and when he looks back to the monitors, Angel has disappeared. She's faster than he thought.

"Are you ready to die, Joker?" A voice says behind him, the owner clearly angry.

"I'd prefer not to die today, if that's what you-ah!" He finds himself lifting in the air, helpless to his own movements. "Is this one of your tricks you picked up? I can't say that I like it."

"What have you done?" She inhales sharply upon seeing Bruce's beaten self.

"Just some armor testing, you know, checks how strong it is. It broke after the…I would like to say the fiftieth hit for the aluminum, and the hundredth for the wooden." He grins, enjoying the fact he's pushing all the right buttons.

"I should kill you right now."

"Why don't you? I was looking forward to seeing you fulfill your threats."

"I want to make you suffer, like I did, like Bruce is. Like all the other people you've killed. I'm going to make you die a thousand deaths, Joker. I'll have you screaming before I reach ten."

**Another cliff hanger! (sort of) :P**


	11. Sweet Sweet Revenge

**So sorry it took so long to update guys!**

Chapter Ten

After I gently place Bruce on the floor, I turn to the Joker, who I have tied to a chair. "Let's set some ground rules before I begin. For one, don't talk. I don't care if you scream, but I better not hear a _single_ word or so help me I will cut out your tongue. Secondly, don't try to escape. If you do, I'll break your legs. Lastly," I say, pausing for just a moment to put my face up to his. "Enjoy rotting in Hell." With that said, I pull out his knife, stroking the tip. His hands are splayed out on a table, which is where I'm going to start first.

Taking the blade, I begin to peel off his fingernails one by one, biting my lip to keep from grimacing. I can feel his gaze on me, no doubt a grin on his face. He has a high tolerance for pain, I'll give him that much. When I finish, a small puddle of blood is beginning to form. "Oh, you're so predictable. Let me take a guess; you're going to cut my hands off next, and then you're going to cut my tongue out for talking, that is, if you can." I frown, opening my mouth to say something, but he interrupts. "Do you think I care what you do to me? Do you think I care if I die? If I don't die now, I will later."

"You are going to die today, Joker. You're going to pay for all of the lives you've ruined!" I raise the knife and swing it downward at full force, hacking off at his wrists. Red splatters everywhere, and all the while he laughs. Blood sprinkles my face, but I continue until his hands are completely detached from his body.

"Oh, little bird, haven't you realized that you helped me ruin all of those lives? You were the one I hired, after all." His words strike a nerve, clearly something he intended. Instead, I take a lighter, flicking it open to expose the flame.

"I don't want you bleeding out on me when the fun hasn't even begun," I say, swallowing while wiping the blood off my face. With that, I jam the lighter into his wound, cauterizing it after a few minutes. I do the same to the other stump, satisfied that he's lost pieces of himself. "Do you feel that? Do you feel that pain? That's not even half of what I felt the night you cut my wings off." The all familiar rage swells up in my chest, and he can see it.

"Such a temper," he muses, clicking his tongue. I narrow my eyes, kicking him squarely in the chest. He teeters backwards, the chair hitting the floor with a loud crack. Kneeling down, I yank his mouth open roughly, pulling part of his tongue out.

"What did I say about talking?" Upon saying that, I stick the knife in, slashing at his tongue. Crimson begins to fill his mouth, and he chokes, coughing and laughing at the same time. In the end, I throw his tongue on the floor, bile rising in my throat. I vomit discreetly, my stomach heaving. Normally I'm not squeamish around blood, but in this instance, I just cut out a tongue and hacked off hands.

"Look at me…I must be going nuts," I mutter, kneeling beside an unconscious Bruce. "I understand you now, Bruce." I give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth, standing up once more. I suddenly feel very wary, exhausted from the inside out. I just want all of this to be over. "Well Joker…This is goodbye." I pick up a gun from one of the dead thugs, strolling casually to where Joker lays. I aim it at his head, but I decide that would be too good for him. Instead, I point it towards his throat; at least it'll shut him up for good.

His eyes stare up at me, a sinister twinkle glinting in the light. They're daring me, pleading me even, to shoot. For once, I comply with his wishes, pulling the trigger. The shot echoes throughout the room, and I watch as the red liquid pools around his head. As he dies, his mouth opens. Even though he cannot speak, I can see that the Joker had the last laugh.

"Bruce? Bruce?" I shake him gently, not wanting to cause any more injuries. When he doesn't respond, I try to pick him up, only to fail miserably. His armor is heavier than it looks, although that's probably just the sleep deprivation talking. Hopefully I have enough juice to pick him up telekinetically, not to mention take him all the way back to the mansion. Saying it that way makes it seem like I have to climb Mount Everest carrying three bowling balls. "I might as well just put you on a cart and roll you home," I say, attempting to lighten the mood. From what has happened, that's pretty damn impossible.

"I suppose I can try to carry you again…" I glance at all his wounds which fuel me to go faster and do better. Bending down, I pick him up, this time incorporating my powers to take some of the load off my muscles. "Let's go," I mumble, breaking open a window and jumping out. Thankfully I don't fall, so I float upwards towards the roof. From there, I do my best not to make a spectacle for all of Gotham, even though it's midnight. Staring off in the direction I'm supposed to go, my spirits sink even further. This is going to be one helluva night.

"Miss Walters?" Alfred looks surprised, although he quickly regains his composure. He escorts me up to Bruce's bedroom, gesturing for me to lay him on the bed. "I can take it from here," he says, dismissing me with a wave.

"I want to stay," I reply stubbornly, leaning against the wall to prevent myself from falling.

"You need to rest. I have to attend to his wounds." He frowns at me before beginning to remove Bruce's suit, shaking his head.

"If you need me I'll be in the other room," I say quietly, knowing that I probably wouldn't be much use anyways. Backing out, I trudge down the hallway to my room, hardly having the patience and will power to change out of my bloodstained clothing. I toss them in the corner, deciding to deal with them later. I also manage to wash my face, eventually falling onto the bed with a soft sigh. Surprisingly, I can't fall asleep, at least not on the spot. I can only think of Bruce, and the look Joker had on his face when I killed him. The last thing I think of when I nod off is that I wish I'd been able to do more.

Laughter floats through the corridor outside the door, arousing me from my dreams. Who in the world could be laughing? I glance at the clock, which reads '9:34'. It feels so much later. Swinging my legs out of bed, I take a quick shower, changing into a t-shirt and jean shorts (surprisingly Bruce already had them in the closet). When I start walking to Bruce's room, I begin to limp. Most likely a stretched muscle. My arms hurt as well, a reminder of what happened last night.

"Bruce?" I poke my head in, seeing an alive Bruce talking to the red headed woman I met a while ago. What was her name? Penny? Patricia? Pamela? Yes, Pamela, that botanist who's taking care of the garden. "Well…I thought you'd still be asleep…" I begin, frowning. "Dammit Bruce!" I mutter to where no one can hear me.

"Oh, you remember Pamela, don't you Noelle?" I give a short nod, still pissed that he's beat to hell and the first person he lets in is _her._ I'll have to talk to him later.

"Of course, how could I forget?" When Pamela isn't looking, I send Bruce a look that says, 'What the hell?'

"She was just letting me know how the garden is doing," He answers my unspoken question with his usual coolness.

"You know, it's been looking better," I comment, although in reality I never really pay attention. I remind myself to be more observant. "You must have a green thumb."

"Thank you! I suppose it runs in the family; my mother was always keeping gardens when I grew up." She smiles widely, and next to her I feel like a daisy being compared to a rose. Everyone loves roses, unfortunately. Especially a certain bachelor who has a tendency to pick up a girl every week, although he hasn't since I've been living with him. I'll feel glad about it after she's out of my hair.

"I was never good at growing things. My flowers always withered away…I forgot to water them anyways." At this, her smile turns upside down. I hide a smirk, wondering why they matter so much to her anyways.

"You look tired," she remarks, noticing the dark circles under my eyes. "Bruce told me he fell down the stairs. Were you here when that happened?" She must be stupid to believe he fell down the stairs, even though I can tell Pamela has her doubts.

"Yep, little Brucey can be so clumsy sometimes, and it was a pretty nasty fall so I was up most of the night." I practically beam rays of fake sunshine down at the two with my smile. "It didn't bother me, though. I was planning on pulling an all-nighter anyways."

"I see. Where'd you get that nasty bruise on your leg?" Damn her and her critical eyes.

"Noelle has a tendency to bump into things," Bruce replies with a small grin

"That's me; the master of clumsiness second only to Bruce himself."

"I should get going now; I have to go have breakfast with a friend." Pamela rises out of her chair and quickly exits. I watch her go down the stairs to make sure she actually leaves.

"What was that all about?" I demand immediately, crossing my arms. "Do you always do this after you've been beat half to death?"

"Noelle, she said she saw you carrying someone into the house. Why didn't you take me to the cave instead?" He frowns, sitting more upright.

"Well geez, I was in panic mode because, hmm, I dunno, you'd just gotten whacked with a baseball bat a million times." I scowl, narrowing my eyes. "Not everyone thinks like you do all holy omniscient one."

"Just drop the sarcasm, Noelle." Bruce sighs, passing a hand over his face. "What did you do with the Joker?"

"Oh, you mean that crazy clown? We don't have to worry about him anymore."

"I hope that means he's in Arkham Asylum," he begins, shaking his head. "But I have a feeling that's not what you meant."

"Bruce, you know me so well." I sit down on the bed, rubbing my eyes. "So, since I know you're probably going to want to spring into action, I'm going to let you know that you're staying in bed for a few days."

"I have a city to take care of; I can't slack off because of a few bruises."

"A few bruises? Bruce, you broke two ribs and cracked three others. You're not going anywhere." Since that doesn't seem to have fazed him, I add, "I'll take care of Gotham. I promise."

"Are you sure? You only went out once, and-"

"Thank you, for making me feel as if I am completely incompetent." I stand up, heading out the door. "If I find out you've gotten out of bed, things won't be pretty. You might wake up in a straight jacket," I call behind my shoulder.

"Damn," I hear him mutter, which raises the first real smile on my face I've had today, although, now that I think about it, what the hell have I gotten myself into?


End file.
